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CHARACTERS: Lexa and Steve
WHERE: Churches in Subspace.
WHEN: Day :003 - ???
SUMMARY: Checking into the religions of Opia.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary.

[ Between today and the rally Steve did a bit of exploring around Subspace on his own. His clothes are secondhand and nondescript, not just for his lack of fashion sense - he didn't catch the attention of any of the more unsavory types around the slums when he did his wandering.

Today he's got Lexa with him, and a little more purpose. More familiar with this type of transport, he's the one that gets them on the right train and down into the heart of Subspace. They call these ones bullet trains, and it's not hard to understand why. Looking out the windows from where they stand near the doors is dizzying, rollercoasters don't even go this fast.

Two stops from their destination and he reaches out to her. ]

( Any idea what we should tell them if they ask what we're doing there? )

[ In learning. They've got their backgrounds, but he's not sure anyone's going to care to hear that they're down there looking to get inspiration for Extranet scenarios. Better to stick to the truth where you can, and not just because he doesn't like lying. ]

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[The train platform itself is relatively passable - clearly well monitored if not studiously maintained -, but it don't take long for their walk to lead Steve and Lexa into less than pleasant neighborhoods. The buildings here are close knit, cramped, a strange combination of retrofitted and downright old. There are blocks that seem almost entirely transposed from a different age, brick and stone instead of concrete and pre-fabricated piecemeal. The streets are narrow, crowded, and the smell of backlogged traffic and rubbish isn't strictly oppressive, but it isn't exactly pleasant either. Blinking holo advertisements and battered shop fronts stitch through the neighborhoods; at the corner of one block, perhaps a ten or fifteen minute walk from the train platform, sits the First Block Lirinity Church.

The building is old and desperately in need of a paint job, but otherwise not in poor repair. If there was ever a lawn to speak off, it's gone now; the narrow street butts almost directly against the front step, making it easy to cut up through the double doors. --Well. Through the right hand side of it anyway. The left is definitely locked, catching with a bang if either of them tries to go through it. Inside, the church is simple enough. There's a small front room, empty and quiet at this hour, and near the doors leading into the hall proper is a basin filled with clear water held by a sturdy stone rendition of the Daughter. The basin is not exactly subtly bolted to the floor, but otherwise the interior of the front room is pleasant enough and painted in the typical gentle blue of the Daughter.

The hall beyond the interior doors benefits from the age of the building. It's ceiling is high, the plaster and brickwork an elaborate reminder of a simpler time. If it weren't for the holographic projections roughly approximating stained glass windows on the exterior walls, it almost might be easy to mistake the chamber as something more familiar than it really is. The pews, arranged in a circular pattern around the center dais, are almost entirely empty, but there is a young woman there on the dias with her heavy sleeve tied back so she can light a series of small candles arranged in a row in a depiction of the Mother's outstretched arm.

The woman turns as they come in. She blinks at them, bewildered--]

Oh. Shit.

[And snaps off the lighter gone scorching hot under her fingers. She wrinkles her nose and blows on her fingertips.]

Can I help you?

[No matter what plan they have in mind to manage this, there's a part of Lexa that freezes up. She's not unfamiliar with the ideas of a higher power or worship, but her people reach it out of a place of practicality. What knowledge she's pieced together is sloppy, and there's a sense for a moment (through the link with Steve that's always present because of their proximity and the Nest itself) that she's uneasy.

Lexa straightens up, casting a glance in his direction.]

Are you willing to answer questions? [The hesitation isn't typical in her voice, showing all indications of discomfort. But she thinks she can work with it, quickly adjusting her mindset to how she's presenting herself.]

We both feel as if we've been lacking something in life. And what may come after our lives end. [That's a lie, more than it seems. Lexa knows exactly where her life will go: but she doesn't say as much. Still, there's that extra curious layer to her words present because she has a symbiote in her body, just like Steve.]

[ Lexa's unease is shared to an extent - but through the Nest-link is something close to deja vu, a sense that this place is familiar to him in some way. The layout, the ceilings, the water basin and the pews, even the stained 'glass' (if he squints, and ignores that they're fake).

His eyebrows raise half an inch when the nun? priestess? lets out an oath, and he gives a quick glance at Lexa as she offers an answer, bobbing his head in agreement. ]

We've been, uh, talking about it lately. A lot. With all the stuff going on.

[ Yeah. ]

Oh! [She seems relieved by the explanation. It's a little clunky, sure, but people questioning their faith often are. It's not easy taking on religion anywhere but on Extraspace these days, now is it? Of course they might be feeling awkward.] Of course. I'd be happy to answer any questions you might have.

[Quickly twitching back one side of her robe (hello, that's a lot of leg - a lot of obviously tattooed leg; apparently the young woman is wearing bicycle shorts under her get up), she tucks the lighter into an interior pocket and steps off the round dais to them. Once on the same level with them, it's clear she's quite short. She makes quick work of the ties holding back the sleeves of her pale blue robe and for a moment as she smooths the fabric out, it would be easy to mistake her as dignified.]

What are your names? If you don't mind me asking, I mean.

[Her eyes fall to the expanse of tattoos on the leg, and she follows it for a moment before raising them. She's unable to identify any of these tattoos, but she imagines there's a significance to them if they're on a woman who's here. Of course, Lexa tends to think that all tattoos carry some significance.]

I am Anya, [she says, the name carrying more of a weight than she'd care to admit. But it serves its purpose, being something that she can deliver with ease. Her eyes slide over to Steve (even if her face doesn't turn toward him).] And this is Steve.

[There's a pause as she focuses back on the woman.]

And you are? [A name would be good. It shows that they see her as more than a tool.

(Of course, Lexa firmly sees her as a means to an end. Sorry, Steve.)]

Anya and Steve.

[It's clearly a repetition for her own sake, an effort to make sure she remembers both. Quietly, she makes a point to log both into her personal data files in case either slips her mind when she needs them.]

I'm Judtia. You can call me Daughter or Daughter Judtia if you want, but most people don't bother with it unless they're part of the faith. So-- [a shrug and a quick grin--] All in good time, right?

What kind of questions did you have? Oh-- unless you'd rather talk somewhere else obviously. [There are technically other people in the room. Maybe they'd rather be discreet?]

[ At that last part he glances around the room. ] If you don't mind - [ Somewhere else might be good. He looks over at Lexa once, then back to Judtia. ]

It's like Anya said. [ There, no hiccup when he uses the name on her fake ID. ] We wanna know more about what comes after - you know, when you pass on. [ A beat. ] Both my parents are gone.

We've both lost someone. [Separately. Her eyes pass over the other individuals in the room. Speaking of these things with so many eyes on them wouldn't be good. Lexa still hasn't decided if she'd like to be truthful, or to share half-truths to get what she wants. Moving elsewhere will help her decide.]

So, it's rather private. Relocating would be best. [Besides, any awkwardness that comes from them doing this will only be witnessed by Judtia, which will make it far easier for them to make mistakes and roll with the punches if needed.]

Oh-- [Her face falls, a brief flash of sympathy that's so genuine it might be shockingly empathetic... if it weren't for the fact that they've been attached to each other in a very literal way.] I'm so sorry to hear that. Of course. We can step into my office. Uh...--

[She pauses, glancing around the immediate chamber. Sure. It'll be fine.]

Right. Follow me. [She turns, leading them around the base of the dais. They cut up through the rows of pews to the back of the room and the small door there.] If I can't answer your questions, Mother should be available in a half hour or so. She's on a conference call right now.

[Judtia leads them through the narrow little door and into a plain hallway lit by fluorescent lights. There's no sense of regalia here; it's the most basic, windowless hallway with faintly peeling floor laminate and vaguely worn baseboards.]

If you want I can get you something... hot to drink? With a little lelim maybe?

[ He glances away, a sense of guilt washing over him as he follows her into the hallway. It's true that his parents are both gone, blurted out like that, but using their loss to garner sympathy or trust doesn't exactly sit well with him now that it's done.

He remains quiet at the question, distracted by his own buzzing thoughts. ]

Please, I think it might help make things easier. [There's a part of her that considers chastising Steve for his guilt. Neither of them have lied here, and she can tell that much. She also takes no issue in using this to get what they need for their greater goal. If he thought that they wouldn't have to do that, then he shouldn't have come.]

For both of us, right Steve? [She feels like it might be a good idea to prompt him, to try to forcibly drag him from his thoughts.]

And ... I have no doubt that you will be able to help us. [Injecting warmth into her voice doesn't come easily. In fact, she partly fails along the way. But if she has to do the heavy lifting to get what they've come for, she will.]

[ He pulls his gaze from peeling laminate, pausing for a second to replay part of the conversation. ]

Yeah - thank you. [ With a little what now? ]

[She seems just fractionally skeptical - this kind of thing isn't really her forte. Mother's always telling her she's a little too emotional and doesn't have the theological background to counter balance that with logic and academia. But to the void with it, right? With little more than a flicker of uncertainty in her face, Judtia leads them to one of a handful of doors in the hall.

It opens up into a small (very small), cramped (very cramped) office with a plain desk and a handful of chairs. There's a small window here, comfortably barred on the outside and on the sill there's a stone statue - the miniature version of the scene on the dais of the church's main chamber. There's also a battery powered kettle which Judtia handily turns on. Some rummaging in the desk drawers produces two cups and a flavored tea capsules. She busies herself with preparing both cups.]

Alright then. So do you have any...particular concerns? Or are your worries just... a general uncertainty, I suppose? That's common, you know. Well. Both are, I guess.

[It's really a good thing that Lexa has a practiced poker face for situations like these. She watches Judtia start the kettle, as well as bring out the tea capsules. She's seen a great many things both on the Station and here that befuddle her, and these are more things to add to the list. She doesn't like that Steve can tell that she's puzzled, but she's hardly made her lack of familiarity with these things a secret.

Besides, she's the very same person who would refuse a gun on a mission even if their poor behavior hadn't stopped them from having one.

She settles into her seat and refocuses on the woman.]

Uncertainty ... yes, about what will happen to us after we die. And what has happened to them. People believe we can just be saved here and remembered, but ... it feels as if a soul should be more than that. Is more than that. [Ah, more lies, but only because they run counter to her belief system. She's at least lying because it's what they've come here to do, and not because she's trying to garner sympathy or manipulate the helpful woman.]

[ He finds the seat next to Lexa, his gaze falling on the statue again. He's listening though, and when Lexa finishes explaining he nods, looking back to Judtia. ]

You can't copy a soul. [ A soul really is more than that, his belief rings rings strong in the way he speaks, stronger through their connection - stronger than he had ever needed to reason before.

People are more than data gathered over a period of their life. No matter how advanced the technology, it doesn't seem comparable. ]

[There's an assortment of small jars, each with a matching spoon; she takes these out and places them on the desk within each reach of the two of them. One seems to be sugar, another a thick dewey substance that smells of citrus, another a chalky blue. By the time she's finished all that, the kettle goes off with a muted POP. Judtia hums thoughtfully, nodding as she fetches the kettle from the window sill. She pours an equal amount of hot water into both cups.]

Two minutes to steep if you're a traditionalist. Personally I just let mine sit.

[She replaces the kettle on its base and when she turns back, there's a small pinch of thoughtfulness between her brows. She takes a seat behind the desk across from them.]

I expect the Mother would agree with you. I think she would say there is some element of the spirit that can't be measured or recorded. The world tells us that death is the return of that element to the elements that surround and create the next stages of life. --But then I guess I'd wonder why we need our bodies at all if that were the case; are you your body, or are you the combination of your mind and your physicality? Does that mean I'm not me if, I don't know, I get into some awful accident and the only original part of me that's left is my mind?

[When she had begun with the Mother, Lexa very nearly interjected to ask what she believed. It's odd to see someone whose opinions are so dependent upon another, and it's a relief that she speaks her own mind. The statement is curious to her, about everything going back to an element, but she does her best to sort through it with her own biases in play.]

If your mind is all that's left, can it really impact further stages of life? Where does life begin and end? How do you define life? [She rattles off the questions one after another, hoping that it seems like it comes from a place of genuine curiosity.

In part because it does.]

[ He watches the steam rise from the cup in lazy spiral, the blue stuff isn't anything he can identify. Judtia, on the other hand, speaks in a way that's familiar, recitation followed by questions. Both what she and Lexa ask give him pause, thinking back to his conversation with Sam.

A mind in a paralyzed body is still you - it's both, mind and body together in some form, combined with the idea that a soul exists in between, affected by sacrament and choice. Not something that could be so easily dissected otherwise by human hands the way a digital copy could. He opens his mouth, then closes it again - glancing over at Lexa, reminding himself not to stray the conversation. It's not his answers they need to hear. But - ] If the mind that's left is only a copy of all the information gathered from your life in the Memory Bank - how can you trust that it's never been altered?

[ Not by an accident. There's a human element involved in the process of transferring what they want to call the mind, that's what Sam had pointed out, and that's another large part of what bothers him. How can you trust that the ones in charge of that haven't changed anything? How would you even know if they did? ]

[That merits a small hum of consideration. She taps her thumbs absently on the surface of the desk.]

Mother would say life ends when the mind does in the sense that if the brain is destroyed or a person is in some kind of...vegetative state where no thought is being processed and so on. You know. Essentially what law understands to be life and death and all that. But [this her her role in things; to say 'but'] I guess in relation to your other question - whether the copy of the mind can be trusted... I suppose it depends on how you define life, doesn't it? Is life just the magical, accidental relationship between the flesh and the firing synapses? Or does will effect it somehow? Is what shapes will really some special spark unique to the individual, or does it matter if someone else gives you direction? Personally, I would say life is defined by action - what you do; who you love and how - and that it's not based on any kind of real stability. Like-- things that don't change? More, it's based on things that are changing or developing all the time based on what you believe or what other people do to change you or reaffirm you or... something like that.

[She clears her throat awkwardly. It feels like she's strayed from the point.]

I guess I wonder if it matters whether you've been altered or not because we're altered all the time by people but that doesn't mean the version of ourselves that used to be alive is dead; it just means we've changed and we change all the time.

[At Steve's words, her eyebrows knit together. It's clear by now to her that they stand on opposite sides of this discussion. She may have to explain later where she comes from. Lexa recalls Nirad's words about ensuring that other people know about her plan, and what precisely is happening with her.]

I'd say it matters less that someone changed the memory, altering it in some way, and how they went about it. If the memory banks ... evolve in some way, that's different from forcibly accessing the ... [What's the word?] The data. [She knows that the Commanders who are given "life" via her chip do evolve and change according to which body the chip is in, and what advice might be needed along the way. (Of course, she only knows the full extent of that now, like information coming together long last.)]

Can I ask whether your views are known to Mother? Would she accept your perspective on this matter?

[ His frown deepens. It's not a question of whether they died, in that case. Influence and manipulation - people can be changed in the real world that way, but there's still a difference between that and the ability to poke around in the essence of someone so directly.

He waits for the answer to Lexa's questions. ]

Oh, I'm not saying it would be ethical to change the data. [That she hurries to tack on and there's a flicker in her expression that suggests she's clearly disgusted by the idea - as appalled as if they were discussing an assault.] Just that sometimes things happen to us that we can't control but that doesn't make us, I don't know, aberrations.

[Maybe she should've poured herself a cup of tea? --In any case, Judtia clears her throat and shifts in her seat. For all her attempts to shake her faint unease, the question of Mother seems to stick.]

Mother wouldn't agree, but of course she'd accept that I have a right to my opinion. Otherwise what would the point be? I'd be a terrible Daughter if I just took things at face value.

[Are they suggesting she's bad at her place in the temple? No, probably not; they didn't seem to know much about the ceremonies at all. Those preconceptions were more and more common these days. Imagine - that there might be people out there who didn't even know the three principles.]

[Still, it means that even within a system such as this one, there could be differences of opinion on what seems to be such an important matter in this world. If nothing else, that would help them moving forward.

She glances toward Steve.]

Surprisingly enough, I don't have any other questions. Do you?

[ He doesn't quite have all the details about what being a Daughter entails, but Judtia gets a faint, lopsided smile for the last part. To Lexa he thinks for a moment before shaking his head. ]

We've got enough to think on for now. [ Maybe more questions than answers, but with Extranet at their disposal, they've got more avenues to explore after these talks. Back to Judtia: ] Thanks for taking the time to talk with us.

[She hesitates, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. That's-- it? She'd been expecting... something more. Tears, maybe? No, not so dramatic as that. But certainly something a little more involved. She can't believe it really has much to do with being particularly good at her job either. Sure, she is good (she knows every Principle and Precept by heart), but it feels like she's hardly said anything at all to them.]

Oh. Alright. [Judtia regards their cups of tea, still gently steaming.] Happy to help. If you have any other questions in the future, you know where to find us.

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